The Secret Lives of Jedi
by patientalien
Summary: A series of short one-shots dealing with the day to day lives of Anakin, Obi-Wan, and Ahsoka during the war. Now with proper formatting!
1. Chapter 1

As soon as the hyperspace ring is attached to his fighter, Anakin turns the controls over to Artoo. He doesn't want to, would much rather make the short trip from Myyrkrr to the rendezvous over Riishi manually, but his joints are screaming in pain and he can't really concentrate anymore. Artoo gives a wary beep and takes over, lowering a vital sensor to attach to Anakin's flesh wrist from the compartment above his head.

To make sure the dose of painkillers he's about to take doesn't interfere with the nerve blockers he had to take earlier in the day after being fried by some faulty wiring in one of the larties, Anakin knows. It's comforting that Artoo remembers, that he'll be safe. "Obi-Wan, this is Anakin, come in," he chirps into the comm as he depresses the hypo against his neck. "I'm out for a while, but I'll meet you at Riishi on schedule." Much as he would like to hide this from his former Master, there's no point to it. The medications are prescribed by not only the Clone medics but the Jedi Healers as well, and Obi-Wan deserves to know if he's not fully functional.

There had been a time when he'd done that, hidden what was going so very wrong in his body, but it had only ended with Obi-Wan getting hurt because Anakin hadn't been able to protect him the way Obi-Wan had expected him to, and after that...he's become more honest.

It doesn't mean he likes it, of course. He hates it, every second of it, from the pain itself to the muddled fuzziness the treatments provide, to the idea that he can't be where he needs to be all the time. It's humbling and Anakin isn't a particularly humble man, nor does he admit weakness readily. This, Obi-Wan had said, is one of his trials as a Knight. As if Obi-Wan is any better, as if he easily admits defeat.

As the hypo hisses and relief comes, Anakin can't help feeling defeated.

"Copy that, Anakin," Obi-Wan's voice returns, laced with concern. "We'll be here."

"I know you will," Anakin responds, already groggy, the pain already ebbing slightly. "See you soon." The ship makes the jump to hyperspace on Artoo's command and Anakin closes his eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

It's only supposed to be for a few days, but Anakin is already annoyed the moment the portable heart monitor is clipped to his belt. "This is stupid," he informs Obi-Wan tersely. "I'm fine."

Obi-Wan crosses his arms and gives him a glare that would have withered him were he still a Padawan. "You've passed out three times in the past week," he reminds Anakin, as if Anakin couldn't remember that just fine on his own. "The Healers are just doing their jobs."

Says the man who escapes the first chance he gets every time HE has to deal with the Healers. "Hypocrite," Anakin snorts.

"Ahem. Well. Be that as it may." He gestures to the door and Anakin takes the lead to leave, trying to adjust the wires under his tunic. He gets it; after their last run in with Dooku, he's been faring a little worse than usual. They've already cleared him brain-functioning-wise - no evidence of seizures this time, which is a nice change - but now Vokara Che is all worried about his heart, which means he gets to cart around this ridiculous box for a week to make sure it's all functioning the way it should be.

"I don't like being tied to this thing," he tells Obi-Wan as they make their way back to their apartment. They're effectively grounded until Anakin is medically cleared, so a nap sounds like a good way to spend the afternoon.

"Well, it's not forever," Obi-Wan replies, sounding tired and drained. Maybe Anakin will be able to convince him it would be best for them to nap together.

"Guess not," Anakin murmurs. Still, he thinks as he palms the door of their apartment open, all of this to-do about his health makes him think that for him, forever might not really be very long at all.


	3. Chapter 3

"Master, wake up."

It takes Obi-Wan a terribly long time to pull himself from sleep's clutches, and even longer to remember where he is, exactly. The pain lancing along his ribs is immediate and he tries not to hiss as he shifts positions. "What time is it?" he wonders, and wonders too why his broken ribs aren't yet healed.

"A little past dawn," Anakin answers, which means his former apprentice likely hasn't slept at all. A flick of his gaze to Anakin's face gives him his proof; the young man looks gray and drawn, skin pulled tauter over bone than Obi-Wan has ever seen. He assumes he doesn't look much different, though. "We don't have any bone knitters in the medkit," Anakin adds as if he'd sensed Obi-Wan's thought. He probably had. "So Rex is coming with a medevac for you in a few minutes."

That explains the pain, then. With the bone knitters he'd be healed in a matter of hours. Still, he doesn't like the idea of being carted back to the Resolute while there's still work to be done. "What about you?" he asks. "The building collapsed on you, too."

Anakin looks at him like he's a small, especially stupid, youngling. "But I don't have shards of bone pressing against my internal organs, and someone still needs to lead the cleanup." Not that it would have made a difference, Obi-Wan thinks, if their roles had been reversed. "Don't worry about me, Master."

At the very least, Anakin truly has gotten better at admitting when he's badly injured, if only to prevent anything bad from happening to others because of it. If he needed the Resolute's medbay, he'd say so. "But I must," Obi-Wan replies as he watches the evac shuttle land behind Anakin.

"Because I don't?" Anakin replies with a slight laugh, standing with only the slightest wince of discomfort. He rests a hand on the hilt of his lightsaber and looks down at Obi-Wan with such an expression of fondness and caring that Obi-Wan feels humbled by it. "Get better by the time I'm back, old man," he demands. "We haven't sparred in too long."

Obi-Wan gives him a smile back. "As you wish, Master Skywalker."

Anakin's grin lights up his entire face.


	4. Chapter 4

Skyguy always disappears the second they land back on Coruscant. Sometimes she sees him for debriefings with the Council, or if he's injured, or very rarely for a sparring session in the training salles. Otherwise he leaves her to her own devices. She doesn't mind, really; they spend so much time together in the field that most of the time the distance he puts between them in the Temple is a welcome respite. She knows it's not because he doesn't care about her or her training, it's just clear his duties on the capital are different.

She has an idea of where he goes, but she knows better than to say anything, to him or anyone else. She can be discrete and maybe someday he'll tell her the truth. She's not exactly holding her breath, though. Though her Master is honest and forthright about almost everything, she can tell he keeps certain things secret. She won't pry, though and maybe someday he'll trust her.

Even though she's used to his absence and doesn't begrudge him (too much) for it, there are times she still misses him. Now, for instance, trying to find somewhere to sit in the Temple commissary. Barriss is off world, which is disappointing because no one else she sees acknowledges her. She's different than most of her age mates, already apprenticed (and to Anakin Skywalker no less), already a Commander, already on the front lines more than she's in the Temple. She's an anomaly and no one really knows how to talk to her. She doesn't know how to talk to them either.

It's lonely here, she thinks, finally finding an empty table in the corner. She misses the Clones, she misses the excitement of the front lines. Soon, she thinks, trying to release the strange sadness in her chest into the Force. Soon it will be back to normal. Soon it will be okay again.


	5. Chapter 5

The ground beneath his feet jolts with the power of the explosion and suddenly Anakin Skywalker finds himself slamming hard onto the rocky soil, the air torn from his lungs at the intensity of the impact. He lies on his back staring up at the sky for a long time, struggling to breathe, the pain in his spine and head beginning to spark small fires up his back, his ribs screaming agony with each labored breath.

Or at least that's what he's pretty sure happened when he wakes up again in the Resolute's medbay, feeling groggy and sore and like he's probably been unconscious for at least the past twelve standard hours. There's no one there to confirm his assumption; the med ward is silent - or at least his small private room is. It takes him a long moment to remember: Ahsoka is on Coruscant, Obi-Wan on Praesitlyn and although he doesn't particularly mind recovering from this particular setback alone, it also makes him appreciative of those times he's woken up to one or the other of them beside him.

He's not alone long, anyway. Kix enters not five minutes later, likely alerted by any of the number of electrodes and monitors Anakin has found himself attached to again. "How are you feeling, General?" Kix asks, waving his scanner over Anakin's prone body.

Anakin smirks. "Like I'm going to be pretty miserable once whatever drugs you've given me wear off," he replies. He's never sure what's worse: the side effects of the heavy narcotics he's often required to take just in order to be up and moving, or the pain itself. He's tried to function both ways, and either way is its own kind of struggle.

"That sounds accurate," Kix tells him, adjusting something in the IV line. "You broke three vertabrae in your lumbar spine, you're gonna be friends with the enkephalin again for a while."

"Any more friendly and I may as well just have a permanent injection port," Anakin grumbles. It's not a bad idea, actually, considering how often he's had to rely on the stuff to get through the day lately. He assumes with damage to his back, the reliance will just get worse. Still, it beats being stuck in bed.

Kix seems to realize that he's not entirely joking with the comment. "We can try a different pain control regimen if you'd like, General," he offers. "For the long-term."

Long-term, because none of his aches and pains are going to go away entirely, especially not the way he's always in the line of fire, always on the move, always fighting and fighting and fighting. And he certainly can't stop now, not when the war is so far from won. "Can't hurt to try," he shrugs, trying not to wince at the discomfort the movement invokes. Anything to keep him functioning, after all, and Kix knows him well enough to know what he can and can't tolerate, both in terms of pain and chemicals to control that pain.

"Give me a couple days to go over the options," Kix requests, moving for the door. "You hungry?"

Anakin shakes his head. "Try back in a couple hours," he requests. Just-awake enkephalin nausea has his full attention at the moment, and he manages to pull a empty bedpan to himself just as his stomach decides it really does want to expel all of its contents.

Kix returns to his bedside, injects something into the IV port. "Apologies, Sir," he says. "Shoulda given you that first thing." And already the nausea is fading, along with Anakin's grip on wakefulness. "I'll come back to check on you in a little while," the Clone medic promises.

Anakin nods, wishing it were Obi-Wan, but glad nonetheless for the care his men show him. "Thanks," he says and is asleep again before Kix is even out the door.


	6. Chapter 6

Enkephalin, Anakin has learned over the days and weeks and months he's had to take the stuff - off and on, always under Kix's watchful eye and careful handling, mixes pretty nicely with Alderaanian grass. Not that he's about to tell anyone his discovery, of course, and not that he does it all the time, mind you. Just when one or the other alone doesn't quite do the trick on the pain, just when he doesn't have to be entirely alert, when he can let his guard down just a little bit.

It mixes even better, he learns one day at Maz's, (because he and Obi-Wan are on Takodana for reasons he can't remember and going to Takodana always means seeing Maz because she'd been friends with Qui-Gon), with Corellian whiskey. It's not that he meant to, exactly... It was more a matter of being so used to the feeling of the enkephalin in his system that he doesn't really think about it when Maz offers them a drink.

Nor does he think about it when she comes back with rounds three through five. "Are you alright?" Obi-Wan asks, touching his wrist lightly. Obi-Wan can hold his liquor, Anakin thinks blearily. Nothing wrong with not being able to keep up, though usually he's a little better at holding his own against his former Master. As if it makes sense to keep score on who's the better drinker. It kind of does. Make sense, that is. "Anakin?"

"Fine," Anakin says, suddenly very aware of how UNaware he is and not liking the sensation one bit. At least not now that it's been brought to his attention that he seems off somehow; before that he'd been quite enjoying the liquid numbness that had spread over his body. "I... think I need to lie down," he admits after a moment of turning the words over in his mind, mostly because if he goes to bed now he won't get himself into trouble. Self-preservation, he thinks, which means everything is fine.

Obi-Wan frowns slightly, but stands anyway. "Anakin..." He sounds worried, but Anakin's not sure why. It's not a big deal, he's just kind of sleepy now. And he's certainly not stupid enough not to realize what he's done. Entirely accidentally but even so. Still, not a big deal. Just tired and numb enough to think that maybe he's actually going to be able to sleep for a change.

"M'fine," he repeats, using the rough-hewn tabletop to pull himself upward. "Don't worry, just... didn't pace myself." Not the first time, but definitely the first time with two doses of enkephalin in his system.

"Moderation in all things," Obi-Wan admonishes gently, the big hypocrite. Anakin is still grateful when Obi-Wan wraps an arm around his waist to keep him steady, though. "You have to be more careful," he says softly as they make their way through the crowd. Anakin can feel Obi-Wan gesture to someone, probably Maz, and then resettle their positions to walk more easily.

Anakin scowls slightly as he trips over his own feet momentarily, his normal battlefield grace escaping him entirely. "I am careful," he enunciates, trying not to lean too heavily on his master. He's not careful, not as much as he should be, but he can't just stop living his life because the Separatists keep trying to kill him. He wants to verbalize this particular thought but he's not sure he really can, even under the best of circumstances.

Obi-Wan sighs, and nudges open the creaky wooden door to their shared room in Maz's attached guest suite. "I'm worried about you," Obi-Wan says.

With a snort, Anakin inelegantly pulls his tunics and boots off, sitting heavily on the bed and toppling onto his side. "I don't know what to do," he admits softly; he's not sure why. He knows exactly what to do: he needs to just let Kix do his job. He needs to be more careful on the battlefield. He needs to... sleep.

He feels the mattress dip as Obi-Wan sits beside him, rests a gentle hand on his back, right over the until-recently broken vertebrae. "I know," Obi-Wan replies and lays down next to him, resting a hand against Anakin's throbbing pulse. To watch. To monitor. To reassure.

Anakin falls asleep with Obi-Wan's warm hand against his skin.


	7. Chapter 7

I wish there were more hurt/comfort fics with Anakin and Rex being bros.

* * *

Captain Rex knows he's not the only clone to have nightmares. They all do; its admitted in hushed whispers over drinks at 79s, or in the heat of battle to an injured brother. To reassure each other they're not alone, that the images of their beloved General - Generals, really, because it's not just the 501st either - falling under a hail of friendly (friendly?) fire are something they all experience.

They're not supposed to have nightmares, but they all do.

Jedi aren't supposed to have nightmares either, Rex thinks. But his General does. Maybe because he's so attuned to his men, or maybe because of whatever of his own demons he's wrestling with. In any case, shared bedtime misery brings them together in one of the large training rooms on the Resolute a few times a month.

Skywalker is already there when Rex arrives on this particular night; the clone had tried his best to get back to sleep, the threat of battle looming. The Jedi is clad just in a pair of faded soft-looking sleep pants. His upper body and feet are bare and he's standing in the middle of the room with his eyes closed, moving though a complicated lightsaber kata. Rex stands a respectful distance away, watching. Skywalker is all lethal grace, each movement tied neatly to the next. Rex has seen the man in battle and has seen a few sparring matches between Anakin and General Kenobi, or Commander Tano. This is differently. This is almost peaceful, which is not a descriptor Rex would normally use for his tightly-wound General.

After a few long moments, Skywalker senses Rex's presence and opens his eyes, standing with his feet apart and his lightsaber lowered to his side but still ignited. "Captain," he greets with a nod.

"General," Rex responds. When they'd first started this routine, Rex had always stood at attention, saluted, the whole thing, because he'd been embarrassed. Then Skywalker had basically snapped at him to stop. Later he'd softly admitted it was because he just wants to be treated like a PERSON for a change. And Rex had understood completely, and so here in the training room they're Rex and Anakin, not Captain and General.

"Hand to hand or quarterstaff?" Anakin asks, powering off his weapon and clipping it back to his belt in a move so practiced it transcended conscious effort.

This, too, is their ritual. Physical exertion releases endorphins and a host of other chemicals into the brain and helps, for the time being. Sometimes it's sparring, sometimes it's running at a sprint around this deck of the ship, sometimes it's something else. Rex's favorite night remains the one that saw the General blasting music and dancing. Rex had joined in somewhat begrudgingly, wondering not for the first time if Skywalker was losing his mind.

"Haven't seen you throw a punch lately, Sir," Rex teases. Anakin is more than a match for him in hand to hand combat, but he knows the General is rarely without his lightsaber. His job is to keep the General safe, and making him stay in practice is part of that.

Anakin chuckles and strips the glove from his mechno. They'd discovered - or rather Rex had discovered - that the fitted padding, metal clasps and adornments of the glove really only made a blow from the prosthetic worse. Skywalker, to his credit, tries to pull his punches or fight left-handed as best he can.

They circle around each other for a moment; Anakin is favoring his right side, particularly his leg, and while Rex files the information away for use on the battlefield to best protect his General, here in the training room he uses it as an opening, easily kicking Anakin's foot out from under him. Anakin's breath escapes in a whoosh as he hits the padded deck, but he recovers quickly, springing back to his feet with only the slightest hint of discomfort.

Rex fells his General three more times before he calls for a truce, settling to the deck beside Anakin. "Knee or ankle?" he asks as Anakin adjusts his position slightly, reaching for the hem of his pants. If this weren't something major, there's no way he would have won the sparring match.

Anakin grimaces. "Knee," he grunts after a moment and allows Rex to roll his pant leg up. Rex winces; the General's knee is mottled purple and badly swollen, dirt and debris encrusted in the dried blood on his skin.

"When did this happen?" Rex asks, heaving himself to his feet to retrieve a medkit. It's obvious Anakin hasn't bothered to attend to the injury himself, which concerns Rex deeply. Usually Anakin is fairly straightforward about things like this- hiding a wound that is obviously slowing him down isn't like him.

"A couple days ago," Anakin admits. "Kix had his hands full, so I figured I'd wait." Well, THAT sounds like Anakin, at least. "Looks like I can't put it off anymore." He sounds defeated by that, insurmountably sad. It's... disconcerting.

"No, you can't," Rex agrees, returning with the medkit in his hands. It's a rudimentary one, but he'll at least be able to get the wound cleaned and wrapped up before herding Anakin to the medbay. He swabs away the worst of the blood and grime with a disinfectant wipe; he knows it stings but Anakin doesn't react to the discomfort. "Sir, permission to speak freely?"

"You know you can, Rex," Anakin replies with a sigh. "It's just us here." He leans back on his elbows and cranes his neck a bit to see Rex work.

Rex takes a breath and lets it out slowly, smearing the wound with bacta. It's cleaner, at least, but he can see the start of infection and the swelling is concerning. "I know you don't like being sidelined," he says, weighing his words carefully. While he knows here they're Rex and Anakin, he still doesn't want to overstep his place. "But have you considered asking for a leave?" Even a short one, Rex thinks, would help. Not that he'd expect his General to relax, but being away from the battlefield would at least give him some much-needed recuperation time. He's lost count of how many injuries the young man has racked up over the past few months; and each injury makes him that much more susceptible to the next one.

Anakin frowns. "I'm fine," he says, but his voice is a little shaky. "I can't..." He lets out a sharp breath. "I don't want..." He sounds frustrated, almost angry, but there's an undercurrent of sadness in his voice that Rex has never heard before. "I'm a Jedi," he says finally. "This is just part of the package."

Rex knows General Kenobi and Commander Tano have suffered their share of battlefield injuries, but nobody does getting nearly blown up on a regular basis like General Skywalker. Part of it is recklessness, but part of it - part of it that Rex tries not to think about - is that Anakin is assigned some of the most dangerous missions of the war. Rex knows it's because Anakin gets results, but he has to wonder if the Jedi Council or Republic High Command realize just how taxing those missions are. Wonders if they realize how often Rex sees Anakin choking down handfuls of painkillers and stimulants just to keep moving, if they've ever witnessed the immediate aftermath of a Force lightning attack - if they've ever had to find the General a comfortable and safe place to have a seizure. General Kenobi has, he sees it all the same as Rex does, but how much sway does Kenobi have over the others in charge? Enough to protect Anakin? Enough to force a medical leave? Rex resolves to speak with Cody about this in the morning, have the Commander plant the idea in Kenobi's head. Because it's not really Rex's place; he doesn't want to betray his own General's trust.

"We just worry about you," he says. We, the collective 501st, because they all do. To a man, the legion adores their General and tend to fall over themselves to work directly with him. It's an honor. A challenge. And Rex knows his brothers would do anything to protect the man, if only to keep their collective nightmares from becoming reality.

Anakin's face twists slightly, maybe from the sentiment but maybe because Rex is now in the process of wrapping his knee in a brace to help keep it stable on the trip to medbay. "Thanks," he says but Rex isn't sure if it's for the treatment or the worry. It doesn't really matter. He gets to his feet and holds out a hand to help Anakin leverage himself back to his feet.

"If I see you out of medbay before Kix clears you, I'm kicking you right in that knee," Rex comments as they make their way out to the corridor that will take them to the medic. "Sir." He's only half-joking.

Still, Anakin manages to laugh. "Fair enough," he says. "Thanks, Rex. Really."

Rex nods. "My pleasure, General," he replies.

Rex is a good soldier, and he will follow his General to the end of the Galaxy, but not without making sure Anakin stays in one piece in the process. They walk in comfortable silence the rest of the way.


	8. Chapter 8

It's a bad day for both of them. They've been granted a few days of leave; Padmé is tied up in meetings the entire time, she says apologetically, but Anakin realizes he's really okay with that. He's tired. He's sore. He has an appointment with the Healers on his first day back, gets a refill for his enkephalen and a new one for a nerve blocker. They make him tired and sick to his stomach, but he takes them anyway.

On the morning of the second day, he manages to wake up early despite staying up late tinkering with his fighter the night before. He pads into Obi-Wan's room and sees his former Master curled up, an expression of discomfort on his face. "Master?" he ventures, reaching out to give Obi-Wan a slight nudge with the Force. "Master? Breakfast?"

Obi-Wan opens one eye and looks up at him. "Do we have any milk?" he asks. They don't. Anakin goes down to the commissary to get some and returns only to find Obi-Wan asleep again.

He picks out cereal for both of them, fries them eggs, pours some juice, brews Obi-Wan's favorite tea, and brings it all back to Obi-Wan's bedroom along with his medication and Obi-Wan's vitamins, depositing himself on the bed beside his friend. "Wake up," he prompts, giving Obi-Wan a gentle poke in the side.

The older man props himself up and looks over at the offerings Anakin has laid out. "Oh," he says. "Thank you." It's not often Anakin is awake before him, after all, and even less often that Anakin proves he can do things in the kitchen besides set appliances on fire.

Instead of taking his own food and retreating to the common room or his own bedroom, Anakin remains where he is and grabs his cereal. "You seemed tired so..." He shrugs. Obi-Wan spends so much time taking care of him, breakfast (and saving the man's life every other mission) is the least he can do, even if the exertion of getting the supplies and doing the cooking has drained him entirely.

"I'm fine," Obi-Wan protests, accepting the tea and sipping it lightly. "How are you doing?" Anakin knows Obi-Wan is playing things off; Zigoola had changed him, much as he may be loathe to admit it. Anakin understands, though sometimes he thinks Obi-Wan doesn't realize just how well he understands.

"Sore," he admits in response. "Did you have plans for the day?"

Obi-Wan nods. "I wanted to reorganize the kitchen and perhaps you could put together that bookshelf Quinlan left? Then we really should do some sparring work and meditation." Even as he says it, his face shows his reluctance, and just the THOUGHT of moving more than he has to is making Anakin exhausted.

"Okay," he agrees instead of pointing out that neither of them seem up for any of that. "We can start after breakfast." He doesn't want to. He wants to sleep. He hands Obi-Wan his multivitamins and pops his own pills into his mouth, swallowing them dry. Two painkillers this morning because everything HURTS and if he has to forgo rest for other things (that really do need to be done but does it HAVE to be today?), he at least wants to have the cushion.

They watch a program on the Holonet as they eat and Anakin finds himself growing more and more tired as his bowl empties. Obi-Wan finally ends up taking it from him before it can fall from nerveless fingers onto the blankets and deposits it and the rest of the plates on the bedside table. "Come here," his former Master says softly and Anakin curls into the crook of Obi-Wan's arm. It's warm and comfortable, his head resting on Obi-Wan's chest, feeling his breathing, hearing his heartbeat, Obi-Wan's free hand nestled in his hair telling him that they are together. They are okay.

When Anakin wakes up again, it's mid-afternoon but Obi-Wan is still asleep. Anakin takes another dose of his medication and curls up beside his Master once more. They stay like that until morning, and though Obi-Wan laments their lack of productivity, both of them know the rest did them good. "Next time, Master," Anakin promises.

If there is a next time.


End file.
